


quiet moments of 'after.'

by WritingOnTheWalls



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Character Study, Drabble, M/M, One Shot, What's a dialogue?, and I will never get over it, baz worships the literal ground simon walks on, don't ruin their happy ending rainbow pls, gay tm, i love them, i love u but pls, living a charmed life, real bad metaphors, soft babies, words words words just words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-23 21:47:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20015281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritingOnTheWalls/pseuds/WritingOnTheWalls
Summary: simon snow is worth the pain (because what's sunshine without a little rain.)





	quiet moments of 'after.'

He never thought they’d get an _after._

Never bothered to think or dream or hope.

The fact that there’s even a ‘they’ takes his breath away, and the reality that there’s an _after?_  
Unthinkable. Impossible.  
Perfect.

Simon Snow is alive, and beautiful, and he looks at the world with a childlike wonder (which Baz completely understands, completely feels to his absolute core, because when he looks at Simon? ‘Awe’ isn’t even close.) and somehow it starts to make Baz feel alive too.

Which he laughs about sometimes when he’s alone (or at least out of earshot of Simon, he’s never really alone anymore) because? Hello? Vampire?

Somehow he sometimes forgets.

Sometimes.

Teen vampires don’t often get that luxury, and it’s a little bit overwhelming, but manageable. Worth it.

It seems impossible to him that he’s magic, and Simon Snow somehow isn’t, because Baz can appreciate his own chiselled jaw, and defined muscles. He’s not stupid - self-loathing but not stupid. But Simon thrums with energy, has a kind of power that’s completely mesmerising, enchanting. If Baz had words to ascribe to the kind of spell Simon puts over him, he’d move mountains. Change the universe. End world hunger, and bring peace to all. Make it so that beautiful boys like Simon Snow didn’t have to pretend they were anything less than _everything._

The only words he can think of are SimonSnowSimonSnowSimonSnow, but no matter how many times he whispers them into Simon’s ears, the only reaction he gets is a tiny giggle, a flush of the cheeks – Simon will maybe even lick his face in disgust (if he’s lucky.) Baz pretends to mind (he doesn’t mind.)

(Simon loves to bite him, and it’s the **hottest** fucking thing.)

Part of Baz had always thought kissing Simon would be soft. Like sunshine, and flowers. Hesitant, delicate. Simon was awkward and boyish, bumbling and shy. He’d hated Baz, sure, and there was a certain kind of fire hidden behind the frowns and stares that came along with those kinds misdirected emotions but there was nothing about Simon that suggested kissing him would be so. So.

Simon kisses are always a thousand degrees, burning, hungry. Impossible to escape from – even if he'd wanted to (he never wants to) because Simon could leave him broken and charred, dying, and Baz would still ache for his hands in his hair, and his lips on his skin and his –

His kisses are purposeful, laced with meaning and dread and longing and a lifetime of pent up desire. Calculated and dizzying.

Intense. Full of life.

  
Simon Snow is alive and full of life, like the sun, like the sun, he makes everything around him thrive. Everybody exists because Simon dares to shine, and it’s fucking wonderful and terrifying and Baz never wants to look away even though they always tell you to look away before you’re blinded because the sun creates life, but Simon creates doubt too, because the sun destroys and burns and makes people ache until they wish they’d heeded warning and let it be (and Baz knows the sun will bore of him, and that he’ll find his skin burnt red raw and maybe even his heart, too, and part of him will wish he’d hidden from the perils, the pain, but what’s the point of continual existence without the joy of the sun, it’s worth the pain, it’s worth the pain.)

Simon Snow is worth the pain.

It’s worth it because they get to hold hands in the snow, and make snow angels that Simon always gives stupid names like ‘Meg’ or ‘Jennifer’ because _of course he does._ And Simon is terrible at skating, but his attempts are always dramatic and adorable, and Baz gets to play the hero which he sort-of really likes (even though everybody knows Simon’s the real hero of this story.)

It’s worth it because every time Simon laughs at one of his dumb (snarky) jokes, his heart does a weird flipflop that shouldn’t be possible, makes him feel all kinds of things he shouldn’t – but is a constant reminder that he has a heart, and that, despite all it took to get there, he deserves to be here, too.

It’s worth it because Simon is terrible at baking, but Penny’s efforts more than make up for it, and Baz is used to having her around now. Which is weird, but nice, because he’s never had friends he doesn’t loathe before. Hell, he’s never not loathed anybody who wasn’t Simon before, and wasn’t really aware he’d been missing out.

It’s worth it because every argument and tear and hour-long silence is made up for with apologies, and smiles and kissing and hugs and laying under the stars and feeling like home. They’re working at the fighting thing, but some habits are hard to break (but worth breaking too, because Simon’s happiness is everything, everything, everything.)

It’s worth it for the way Simon draws their names in hearts in the steam on the bathroom mirror. It’s worth it for the cotton-candy flavoured toothpaste, and endless supply of forehead kisses. It’s worth it for the lazy afternoons spent curled up under fuzzy blankets on their favourite couch, rolling their eyes at people on tv and knowing that they had _nothing_ on their superior brand of love. It’s worth it for the fact that Baz knows no matter how lost he manages to get, Simon’s always going to drag him right back where he needs to be. It’s worth it for the way Simon’s tail twitches when he’s concentrating and forgets that Baz is watching.

It’s worth is because Baz’s shirts don’t fit Simon quite right, but he insists on wearing them anyway (Baz cuts wing-slits in the back of most of them, because it’s easier, and because they look better on Simon anyway.)

It’s worth it because Simon tastes like candy and cherry scones and butter and light. It’s worth it because love. Always because love. Love is worth the potential to break, to lose.

It’s worth it because if he’d never known what it was like to not have Simon – to fear losing him – to want him – to need him. Maybe he would’ve given up long ago. Crowley knows he wouldn’t appreciate it half as much. Having him. Holding him.

(It’s worth the nights Simon wakes up from trauma-induced nightmares screaming in hollowed, echoing remnants of pain, because it hurts it hurts but he doesn’t know what or why or how or who, but Baz can hold him and convince him for a little while that they’re safe and okay – he’s okay, and he knows he’s here in this world to make Simon Snow feel safe and okay. It’s a damn good purpose if Baz’ ever heard one.)

It’s worth it because every morning he wakes up and Simon Snow is snoring loudly next to him, drool pooling on his chin and he loves their moments of quiet too, but something about how innocent Simon is in sleep (even whilst being loud and messy and so, so alive) makes him feel incredibly wicked.

It’s worth it, because even when he scares Simon awake with kisses on his freckles, and sweet words, and is rewarded with screaming and flailing and a pillow to the face, his life has a Simon, and even if Simon leaves, well. The world has a Simon, and that’s its own kind of wonderful, and if Simon chooses to love Baz, then that’s the kind of bliss Baz has never hoped for, but still somehow has.  
  
Because this is his life, and his life is Simon Snow, and fuck if he isn’t going to kiss him quiet, before dragging him into the kitchen to start their day with strawberries and pancakes and a whole mound of butter, and it’s so unbelievably sweet and wholesome and not because of the strawberry pancakes, and Simon teases him for being a sap, but how can he not when Simon is here, and in love with him, and alive.

**Author's Note:**

> Uh. I very much love Carry On, but have barely interacted with the fandom - ever. So, something I need to rectify, but also? Baz is a dork and I love him, soZ. Excuse me whilst I attempt to devour every fic on this site.


End file.
